“This whole travelling to missions business is chafing at my ankles.” Eje kicks a stray pebble down the road. “Come here. Then go there. We're not couriers but we spend more time walking or sitting in carriages than we do on the missions themselves.”

“It's the best part of the mission.” Salaya still sings in high spirits after her success at deflecting magic. “And it's important too. Even someone willing to help the nation balks at the thought of travelling it. We get to complete our missions, help people, and see new things every day. As a bonus, I've never felt healthier with all this exercise.” She swings her arms, her high spirits a deliberate negation of the lifeless landscape they approach. At first Ariel thinks they've come to the desolation, but up close, it's the opposite. Withered husks of trees lie scattered on hard, unyielding soil. Instead of a constant cycle of decay and rebirth, nothing rots here. Instead of moisture, her skin already feels dry like paper. Instead of a quivering buzz in the air, Ariel hears only the ring of silence with an occasional bird in the far distance.

“Stop trying to make the boring parts sound fun, Salaya. We can help people and also acknowledge that some parts of missions are a waste of time. Well my time is precious and I don't believe in wasting it. This is why we need to learn teleportation.”

Ariel hops over a dry creek bed. “We visit a place to teleport to it, right, Octave?”

“Almost without exception. You need an image of it in your mind.” Octave walks through the creek bed, dust kicking up in her wake. “And it needs to be detailed. A description won't suffice. You won't be teleporting to any missions.”

“That must be her up ahead.” Eje shifts the topic as she again finds herself losing ground. Ogostinia's mission briefing had described in great detail the mound they were to meet at as she'd thought they might miss it. It stands as the only noticeable landmark overlooking the emptiness for a league.

“Excellent. You've arrived.” Ogostinia stands in the mound's shadow, a hefty canister of water by her side. “You brought everything, I presume?”

“It's all here.” Salaya pulls her pack off with some difficulty. “Fresh life – there's a flower shop in Lakeview I got that from. A focus of power – a firegem, just don't ask how we came by it. Preserved life – I wasn't sure about that, so I have a jar of pickles and some cured ham.

“Looks like you were motivated first by hunger.” Ogostinia holds up the pickled radishes, frowning at them as one would a misbehaving child. “These might be preserved, but they're only partial specimens of life. We need something whole. Something that was created with the intent of preserving a life, not flavouring it.”

Ogostinia's words trigger something in Ariel's memory. An abandoned hut, a foul smell, an object hidden in a corner. She reaches into her pocket and fishes through the lengths of string, the crumpled up notes she should have discarded. At the bottom she feels it. Small, hard, and vaguely cuboidal. “Will this do?” She holds up the insect encased in transparent gold. “I found it in that village by the desolation. The same place where we found the tomes.”

“That can't be a coincidence.” Ogostinia holds it up to the light. “Preserved in amber. A wonderful specimen.”

“What's amber?”

“The hardened life blood of a plant. This one is a nice rich yellow, so I'd guess it's from a coniferous tree of some sort. Likely a pine. And the insect inside...hm, that's not one I've seen before. This might be ancient.” She examines it more closely under a convex lens. “More confirmation those villagers had expert help. I looked into the records. Tried to find out who was there but to little avail. Of course archivists and record-keepers are concerned only with big moments. The size of the annual harvest, or the results of the King's latest diplomatic endeavours. However, from checking our rosters, I can confirm there were life specialists from the Mage Guild present.”

“Were they really trying to terraform the desolation?”

“I'm convinced they were. They didn't tell anyone of their intentions, safer that way, but there were a few spells in that tome that stuck with me. I tested one myself, and while the results were impressive, testing in a clean guild room where I'm in control means little. We're going to recreate it here.”

“What is this place?”

Ogostinia picks up a small shovel and cuts furrows into the earth as she talks. “The scar? It's a secret Mage Guild experiment.” She pauses to laugh briefly, eyes narrowing. “Not so secret anymore, the bunglers. Led by council members, no less.”

“Who on the council?” Octave is so nonchalant with her question it's suspicious.

“Don't remember the name – I make it a point not to remember their names. No sense in opposing them either. They're the old guard and they're in control. Not like me, mind you. I may be old, but I don't guard anything and I don't control anyone. I look forward, not back.”

“You're a mage.” agrees Octave. “Not an administrator.”

“Exactly. Finally someone who understands that the pursuit of a craft does not lend itself to the administration of it. I could have told them they were putting too much magic into the area, had they bothered to consult me.” Ogostinia sighs. “Botanical is a fringe branch of magic. It lacks the excitement of colour or the practicality of crafting magic. No doubt they didn't so much as consider asking for help from one of us.”

“What sort of spell could do this to such a large area?” asks Salaya, her voice hushed.

Ogostinia's shovel glances off the ground and she pauses, panting.

“Let me try.” Octave takes the shovel and slams her foot onto it, forcing the blade into the stubborn earth.

“Thanks. This was the work of not one but many mages casting a spells over time. You've surely heard of coordinated magic; farms would fail without it. But have you seen it cast? You could come every day for a year and for each day notice nothing different. At the beginning you have a forest and at the end, you have this dearth of life.” She gestures to the dead land surrounding them and leads them over a dozen paces or so. “Here's the magic that's beyond anything we could hope to do: when you have a gap, life finds a way to fill it. It's fascinatingly tenacious. Even when its bonds are broken and its bases uprooted, life creates new sinister roots and buries them deep. See what I mean?” Octave has stopped digging. Ariel gasps. A patch of blue-tinged dirt lies before them. A cluster of mushrooms, their caps speckled azure, grows in the centre.

“The desolation?”

“Keep digging. Yes, life must grow, but the shape of its growth mirrors its surroundings. Here it has taken hold in a place where no other life could grow, and if we don't stop it, it will spread.” Octave cuts the furrow into the softer blue soil. “Get that canister of water over here. I'm going to plant some bunch-grass.” She takes a sack of seeds from her pocket and spreads them into the furrows as Eje hurries to grab the water. She busies herself spreading dirt back over the seeds while Eje follows, pouring water into the parched land.

“Will it only spread to the desiccated areas and stop, or will it keep going until the forest is gone?”

“It's a fascinating question, but we'd best not risk finding the answer. The sooner we deal with this the better. You brought the village tome with you? Good, pass it to me. I need to check the spell again.”

When she first read the spell, Ariel had assumed it was rambling in the margins of a rambling book. Looking at it as a cohesive magical plan, she has no idea how it works. Ogostinia lays the flowers, the firegem, and the amber out, but doesn't touch them. Instead she sits with her palms on the ground. Ariel gives up trying to read the spell. “How does this work?”

Ogostinia fixes an eye on her, and Ariel flinches. “Why don't you join in? Sit beside me. Put your palms on the ground. Right here, next to where the soil grows blue.” Ariel does, glad that Ogostinia is never as stern as she seems. “Good. Ready? Feel your magic. It's like connecting to the sensory plant, but you're connecting to the ground.” Ariel does and hopes the others aren't laughing at her. Something this awkward should never be done in front of peers. “You're not concentrating. Call on your magical potential. Connect it to the ground.”

Magic pulses over Ariel's temples and spills like a bucket of water over her head, down her arms, into her hands. But into the earth? That's absurd. What would she be connecting with, worms? Then something catches in her fingertips. A small jolt or spark surfacing from deep within the earth. She squeezes her eyes shut and sees it for the first time. The tips of her fingers, pressed against dry soil feel the stirring of life in the couched recesses beneath them. More than she has ever felt, more than she thought possible laminated into a layer thin as a strip of cloth. Tens upon thousands upon millions; how high can numbers go? Above and below the earth lies still and dead, but in this one layer the people of ten thousand cities live, reproduce, die, all in her hands.

Another presence stirs. Another flow of magic – Ogostinia joins her. She's leading Ariel onward. The layer of life thickens as they go on, thickens and somehow grows denser. Ariel shudders. Something is wrong. It creeps alongside her, then around until the two of them are buried in it. Buried alive. There's no north, no south, no east, no west. Only dense, dark life that nibbles at the corners of her mind in a thoughtless hunger. The countless life beneath the desolation nibbles, it gnaws, it chews with hordes of mouthless bodies. All Ariel feels is the overwhelming agony of despair. All she knows is that she is dying in a land of death. Soon she will become it.

“Enough.” The stern voice comes from beside her and all around her. Then she loses her grip. Her eyes snap open. Ariel sits on the ground, Ogostinia shaking her by the shoulders.

“Am I...alive?” Ariel pulls herself up. She needs to get away from the ground.

“You'll be fine in a minute. I thought your presence would bolster mine, but you were overwhelmed quickly. I apologise.” Ariel stumbles away for a few steps then drops her hands to her knees, doubles over, and vomits.

Salaya pats her on the back and passes her a flask of water and Ariel gratefully rinses the foul taste from her mouth, nausea fading. “What did you do to her?”

“She's experienced the world within the world. The life that lives beneath our feet from which all plants must grow. It's difficult the first time, but as I said, she'll be fine. Sit and rest.” Ogostinia rises to her feet, brushing dirt off her clothes. “I was able to put a rudimentary version of the spell into motion, however. It's only a matter of pushing life from one side to another, from here to the desolation.”

“How long to turn this scar into forest again?” It's the first time Octave has shown interest in a mission. Even Eje raises an eyebrow. Ariel flops down onto the ground again, not caring if it brings her closer. Her legs have gone soft.

“Don't focus on results; it will only leave you disappointed. We're dealing with new magic, untested. We'll come back tomorrow and see how much progress has been made.” She bends down and picks up the firegem, the only reagent left over. Ariel didn't even notice the others burning away. A faint orange glint catches her eye and she picks up a thin husk of amber, all that's left of the preserved insect. It crumbles away in her hands, the yellow flakes blowing away in the breeze. “Here. This one had a bit more power in it.” Ogostinia hands the firegem back to Salaya. “It may have lost some of that lovely gleam though.” She stretches her legs and rubs her palms together. “How are you, young woman? Mind intact?”

“I'm better, thanks.” Ariel gives her a weak smile. “Was that really the desolation at the end?”

“It was. Came on stronger than even I expected.”

“It's evil.”

“Evil requires sentience. The desolation isn't sentient or conscious in what it does. It's no more evil than a fire, or perhaps a disease. It does what it's good at, like all living things. It cannot find sustenance in the sun, so it finds it from other life.” She pours the last of the water over the seeds and shoulders the empty canister. “Like I said, life is a mirror reflecting the world it lives in. Tough land leads to tough life.” She gestures to a spot of ground where something green protrudes. Before their eyes, a spot of bunch-grass pokes its way out of the sodden soil, a speck of green life in a sea of brown. “That's to be expected with the magic we cast, but we'll see how it looks tomorrow. Elikid, the nearest town, is a few leagues east of here. We should make it there with time for dinner. I'll walk back with you and see if my legs can still keep up, but in town you'll have to find your own lodgings. Meet me back here by, oh, let's see. I'm a late sleeper. Meet me at noon.”

Ariel manages to get back to her feet and they set off. As they walk, Salaya tells Ogostinia more fully of the village and how they found it ransacked by orcs, of their trip into the desolation, and of how Octave found the books on an orc's corpse. Eje tells her of their second mission. Ogostinia follows intently but says nothing, not even raising her eyebrows when Eje explains the circle of stones and how the orcs lived in the desolation itself. A long silence follows Eje's story. “I still can't understand how the orcs resisted the death-sleep of the desolation. Can you?”

“I don't like to guess.” says Ogostinia finally. “It's fascinating if true, but one things stands out to me. If orcs were living in the desolation, why has the news not spread?”

“Spread? You mean people talking about it?”

“How else? People love to gossip and the lockdown on Salkrit is long gone. This story should be spreading and mutating until half the inhabitants are convinced that orcs are living in the underground and the other half are convinced orcs are a hoax.”

“I haven't said a thing.” says Salaya. “Maybe Brant and Irami and the others feel the same way. But we did say it in our report so I hope Captain Loswel knows.”

“I'll look into it when we get back, but Captain Loswel certainly knows. It's too important for him not to.” says Eje. “But I'm wondering something else about you, Ogostinia. How did you get here so fast? It's a day's journey from Lakeview, but several more from Salkrit. Did you teleport?” Salaya perks up at this.

“There are many ways to travel. Teleportation is the fastest, but too restrictive. There are other means of covering ground.” Eje shifts, anxious to know what they are, but even she won't break this taboo. Salaya is too excited to follow such traditions.

“What means did you use?” asks Salaya.

“An enchanted carriage.” The others may not notice, but Ariel catches Ogostinia's eyebrows rising just a nail's breadth as the answers. Not as though angry at the intrusiveness of the question, but more impressed that she would dare to ask. “I have my qualms about the horses they breed, but I can't deny their efficacy. Ariel, legs regaining their strength with each step, sighs to herself, imagining what the ride must feel like. One day when she lives in Salkrit, she'll take an enchanted carriage too.

The inn they find themselves at has a charming mix of home and establishment. A fireplace crackles in the lobby and the attendants stand in creamy velvet, hands folded behind their backs. Ariel never imagined there could be a room with four beds, but she's never been more delighted to be wrong. “How are you holding up?” Salaya asks her as they plop onto their soft mattresses, one in each corner.

“I'm fine. It was more of a shock than anything. The desolation is unpleasant. I should have expected it when I tapped in.”

Eje has only business on her mind. “So,” she announces, sinking into a an armchair until her slight frame starts to disappear in the cushions, “what do we think of this mess?”

“If the desolation can be created,” says Salaya, “is that how it began? Irresponsible mages?”

“No, the desolation has been around for too long. Even the oldest legends before people learned magic mention it.”

“Either way, it can be created, and that means there are mages with power that must be contained. I wonder what the Mage Guild Council plans to do.”

Ariel wants to interject here, to say that these legends change every generation and can't be trusted, but to do so would only cause trouble. Instead she waits for Octave to offer her inevitable contradiction. “The council is too fractured to do anything.”

“There it is.” says Eje as though she too predicted this. “Didn't Loswel say that Tal was on the council? Octave, maybe you can ask her –”

“No. She wouldn't answer anyway. Why should she?”

Salaya's voice rises. “So what can we do about it?”

“I would say nothing. That's all most people can do. But we have a rare opportunity with Ogostinia to effect change. I suggest we take it.”

Eje yawns and stretches. “I'm willing to see what happens tomorrow then. For now I want to test this bed. I think the pillows have real feathers for a change.”